


recurring dream

by lovelylogans



Series: the sideshire files [9]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Baby Logic | Logan Sanders, Dreaming, M/M, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Scares, trans!patton, well. toddler. but i had no idea that was a tag lol, wyliwf!verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:02:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22530661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelylogans/pseuds/lovelylogans
Summary: his brain’s just working through the pregnancy scare a bit late. that’s what this weird dream is, he tells himself. yeah. it’s probably just his head trying to help him move on in a healthy way, cushioning it so that it made him seem like barely even a blip in his head.or: denial ain't just a river in egypt, pal.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Series: the sideshire files [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1464067
Comments: 19
Kudos: 117





	recurring dream

**Author's Note:**

> _the odd thing about recurring dreams is that, no matter how many times you dream the same thing, it always takes you by surprise._
> 
> —david small
> 
>  **notes** : based super heavily on the s3 opener of gilmore girls, but this takes place when patton’s about nineteen/twenty. references a flashback in chapter nine of wyliwf.

_**brIIIIIIIIIIIIIING** —_

_patton groans, barely bothering to lift his head from the pillow, and moves to smash his hand against the alarm clock again, and again, and again, until finally he manages to bop it against the right one that would allow him to return to that blissful, wonderful, thoughtless, **quiet** haze of sleep._

_he sighs as he adjusts slightly, getting comfortable again. nice. silent. peaceful._

_**BWAHHH, BWAHHH, BWAHH, BWAHHH, BWAHH, BWAHH** and **DING DING DING** and **EH-EH-EH-EH-EH** and even a **cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!** and patton groans as loudly as he can over the true, chaotic cacophony, barely catching a blurry glimpse of the halo of alarm clocks surrounding his bedside before he briefly attempts silencing via pillow suffocation._

_it doesn’t **work**. stupid alarm clocks. stupid **consciousness**._

_so patton has to get to his feet and shut off the eighteen— **eighteen**!—alarm clocks that have been stashed around his room. there’s some on his nightstand, and some on the other one, and some on the dresser, and some in the closet, and even a couple in the bathroom. there’s one in the shower, for goodness’ sake, and patton huffs irritably as he shuts it off. _

_that **better** be the last one. how did they even have that many clocks with timers on them???_

_he stomps down the stairs, grumpily ignoring his beautiful little house, the slanting, golden light of summer illuminating the yellow walls, sending everything into a soft, dreamy glow, glancing off picture frames and bringing out the colors in his knitted blankets thrown along the couches and armchairs and that one rocking chair in the corner. he’s talking even before he enters the kitchen._

_“okay, see, when i say **tomorrow, no matter what, make sure i get up at seven,** what i **mean** is, **tomorrow, no matter what, make sure i have the option of getting up at seven,** perhaps waking me up, oh, i don’t know, with a shake of the shoulder, a poke—“  
_

_“papa!” logan says, wiggling, and patton quickly takes him into his arms before he can squirm right onto the ground, continuing to talk even after a quick kiss pressed to logan’s chubby little two, nearly-three-year-old cheek._

_“—because making **loud noises** when people are trying to rest is **rude** , isn’t it, logan?” patton says, and logan nods vociferously.   
_

_“yeah, you’re asking the toddler,” virgil says, amused, now that his arms are free from holding logan he’s fully able to move to scramble the eggs, and patton pulls a face at him, adjusting logan in his arms.  
_

_“ **logan** hasn’t woken me up with noisy noises since he was very little, and he gets a pass because he was a baby then,” patton says.   
_

_“m’not a baby anymore,” logan says. “i’m a big boy.”  
_

_“that you **are** ,” patton agrees, moving to deposit logan in his booster seat at the table before he digs out the ceramic pot that he keeps coffee grounds in and takes in an appreciative inhale and—  
_

_he narrows his eyes at virgil, suspiciously. “this is decaf.”_

_“what are you talking about?” virgil says, brusque, but patton is **onto him** , he can tell that virgil’s trying to pretend he’s focusing more on the eggs when he’s actually trying to avoid patton’s stare.  
_

_“you switched my coffee,” patton says, already rattling around the kitchen to try and shift things out of the way to find it, “ **again**.”  
_

_“i’m a busy man,” virgil scoffs, as patton peeks in the walnut cabinets, on his tiptoes because virgil **will** use his height against patton, and rattles open the silverware drawer, before he traverses to the next counter, and the next. “i’ve got a diner run, i have shipments to order, i have this breakfast to serve and will you stop that—?”  
_

_but he’s cut off by patton’s crow of victory, as he yanks out the ziplock bag full of grounds out from under the sink._

_“ha ha!” patton cries. “under the sink, better than the freezer, clever, even, but not clever enough. you can’t stop the sniffer!”  
_

_“daddy found it,” logan says. “daddy wins!”  
_

_patton turns to gawk, jokingly, at virgil. “did you involve my **son** in this conspiracy?”_

_“hey, i’m trying to provide a good example,” virgil says defensively. “just **one** day without coffee. one!”_

_“daddy wins, daddy wins,” logan says. “told you!”  
_

_“told him what?” patton asks, as he scoops the right grounds into the machine._

_“hide’n’seek,” logan says. “you’re the **best**.”_

_“guess so,” patton says, turning to see logan, hair illuminated by that same morning glow, “but i learned it from **you** , because **you’re** the best!”  
_

_“hey, **one** cup,” virgil says sternly, and patton sighs, theatrical, before he adjusts his grounds so that each of them will have one cup, and kicks on the machine, hearing it sputter to life.  
_

_“seriously,” virgil says. “i’m trying to pass this on to logan, he’s impressionable.”  
_

_“what’s immm-pressable mean?” logan asks.  
_

_“im-pres-sion-a-ble,” virgil sounds out. “it means your dad should set a better example so that you learn that too much caffeine is bad. can you say it with me? too much caffeine **bad**.”  
_

_“caffy bad,” logan parrots loyally, and patton jokingly smacks at virgil’s wrist._

_“i am **allowed** one cup, you know,” patton says teasingly. “you’re being too protective here, papa bear.”  
_

_virgil sighs, hand briefly skittering over patton’s belly, like it’s practically a habit, making patton’s heart swell, before he passes over a plate and carts logan’s over to put in front of him directly before he checks the coffee machine._

_“okay, so, you’re both up, you’re fed, i’ll probably get going,” virgil says, zipping up his hoodie and nudging down his sleeves from where they’d been pushed up, before pouring himself a thermos.  
_

_“oh, we need cotton balls!” patton says, as even the **smell** of coffee is starting to kick his brain on.  
_

_“cotton balls, right,” virgil says. “anything else?”  
_

_“um,” patton says, wracking his brains. “i think some **am-jay,** for Our Friend—“  
_

_—virgil looks amused, but really, logan’s picked up on how to spell **jam** , so he’s stuck with pig latin here—_

_“—q-tips, wouldn’t mind some world peace, if you can manage it.”  
_

_“i’ll give it my best shot. should be home early,” virgil says, and bends to kiss the top of logan’s head before he leans in and presses a kiss to patton’s mouth, before he murmurs, “bye, caffeine-crazy,” against patton’s lips and patton smiles against his mouth, tugging lightly at his lapel to tug him in for another one, hoping against hope—  
_

_“papa **gross** ,” logan complains, and patton and virgil pull apart just enough, patton grinning up at him a little sheepishly.   
_

_“he learned it from raf, i think,” patton says. and really, expecting to get away with a second kiss after logan started doing that probably **was** a bit too much to hope for.  
_

_“serves us right, i guess,” virgil says, before he presses his hand against patton’s belly again, more deliberate, and gently skims his thumb against the ever-so-slight curve that patton **swears** is there, even if virgil tells him that he can’t really see it yet.  
_

_“bye, sid and nancy,” he tells the two little clumps of cells that will eventually grow into two little babies.  
_

_“mm, what do you think about fred and ginger?” patton says. “go really retro with it.”  
_

_virgil snorts, gathering his keys and wallet to stick into his pocket. “the nicknames are enough, in my family, no daughter of mine’s gonna be named **ginger**.”_

_“back to the drawing board it is,” patton quips. “logan, any new suggestions for your little siblings?”  
_

_logan considers the situation with all the gravity that it should bear, regardless of the bit of jam that he’s already got smeared across his cheek. really, patton’s never met a more serious toddler in his life. “monster truck.”_

_“just monster truck?”  
_

_“an’ microscope.”  
_

_“monster truck and microscope,” patton muses, looking back at virgil, feeling the corner of his lips threaten to let the laughter loose, and he can tell virgil’s biting the inside of his cheek for the same reason. “it’s got the alliteration thing going, i’ll tell you that.”  
_

_“boy’s a poet,” virgil says. “we’ll definitely take it under advisement, lo. pat, decaf, next time. **and** the rest of the day.”  
_

_“you’re a monster.”  
_

_“they’ll both have two heads if you don’t,” virgil says.  
_

_“more to love,” patton declares, and tugs him in for one last quick little kiss, just one more, letting his hands linger on him as long as they can as virgil walks away, grinning at him all the while, and he ruffles logan’s hair one last time and patton smiles as he goes, settling both his hands on his belly—_

patton wakes up with a sharp intake of breath, sitting up in his bed.

his bed. his _bed._ in his poolhouse, not that _actual_ house which can he even really use the word _actual_ at all it was a _dream_ and—

patton glances to the side, and yes, there’s logan, in his toddler bed parked right next to patton’s, sleeping soundly, fingers stuck in his mouth, barely illuminated by a sliver of moonlight peeking in through the window. asleep.

patton rests his hand on his belly. yeah. definitely not pregnant.

and he doesn’t want to _be_ pregnant, he tells himself firmly. he probably just had this dream because he had that totally embarrassing freak-out on virgil about _maybe_ being pregnant a couple days ago, that’s all. 

“papa?” logan mumbles, blinking.

“oh, hey, honey,” patton says, in a soft whisper. “oh, sweetheart, i’m sorry, did i wake you up?”

“yeah,” logan admits, squinting up at him. “moon’s ‘wake.”

“yeah, it is.”

“why are you?” logan asks, and rubs at his eyes with a fist. “did’ja have a bad dream?”

“i—well, not really,” patton says. “i had a dream, yeah. but it was mostly just a really _weird_ dream.”

“oh,” logan says, considering this. “s’it scary?”

patton considers. because—

well. no. it _hadn’t_ been scary. even if the idea of being pregnant again makes his skin crawl to even think about it, and _being_ pregnant with logan had been its own host of all sorts of difficult emotions, but being pregnant in the dream had been—

well. it had practically been a joy.

“nah,” patton decides. 

“mkay,” logan says. “want cuddles anyway?”

well, patton’s not just gonna _not_ take him up on that.

“yeah,” patton decides, shifting. “can i lift you up here?”

“mm-hm.”

so patton reaches down, and scoops logan into his bed, blankets and all, and sets him closer to the middle of the bed, so logan wouldn’t be at risk for falling off, and tosses a couple extra pillows over to the side for extra measure. that side of his bed’s against a wall, but really, better safe than sorry.

“weird?” logan asks.

“oh, just a little,” patton says, slinging his arm over logan, so he’s hugging him. “you were there.”

“was _i_ weird?” logan asks, shifting so that they’re practically nose-to-nose.

patton considers. well. really, patton _could_ see logan recommending the name of microscope, and he has been using pig latin around him lately to say _crofters_ and _jam_ and _jelly,_ so.

“no,” he says. “you were perfectly fine.”

“mkay,” logan says. “was virgil there too?”

patton swallows, and he prides himself on not sounding too squeaky when he says, “yeah, virgil was there too.”

“okay,” logan decides, and apparently those are the only two things that really matter to him, because patton watches as logan’s eyes slip shut and he slips off with a kind of speed that patton envies, and now he’s left to sit—well, lie—alone with the dream still firmly stuck in his mind.

his brain’s just working through the pregnancy scare a bit late. that’s what this weird dream is, he tells himself. _yeah._ it’s probably just his head trying to help him move on in a healthy way, cushioning it so that it made him seem like barely even a blip in his head. 

pregnant, because, well, pregnancy scare, that was the whole thing. patton in a house, because when he’d briefly even though about the possibility of it his brain had been rushing through bills and expenses and how to make space for a baby in the poolhouse, so him having a house was probably him, projecting, his wishes for the future, that’s _normal,_ he thinks. and...

and virgil as the father of the babies because one, patton tells himself, virgil is his best friend, and _two,_ he’d been the one who’d helped patton through the pregnancy scare in the _first place,_ so it probably just crossed some wires in his brain, that’s all.

 _nope,_ patton thinks, trying not to flush as his brain rushes through the way virgil smiles at him, almost secretive and soft and a rarity, in public, so it always feels like patton’s on top of the world whenever he does get it, and his intense, deep brown eyes, and his lower arms, visible from how he pushes up his flannel’s sleeves sometimes, toned yet not super beefy with muscle and how patton knows the rest of him is he same way, the way virgil dotes on logan and the way his eyes light up whenever logan does something particularly clever and the way that virgil is just as enthralled watching logan learn something new as patton is, and virgil’s amazement at logan growing at that terrifyingly quick rate of his, and the way that virgil tells him he’s a good dad and _means it_ and when it comes from him patton just about feels like he’s floating because a compliment from virgil _always_ makes him feel like he’s practically floating, _definitely no other reason why virgil would be my husband._

he’ll probably forget it by morning, he thinks to himself.

yeah, right. because patton’s luck would totally be _that_ good.

he does forget it, a little, by the time he wakes up in the morning with a toddler half on top of him, making it a bit more difficult to breathe. 

the hope of forgetting it fades a bit more after he has the same dream the next night.

it fades more the night after that. and more after that. and more after that.

because really, having a ~~delightful~~ ~~picturesque~~ ~~perfect~~ _awkward_ recurring dream that his friend— _definitely_ only his friend, patton thinks, even if he flushes after waking up and noticing new details, the ring on his finger, the reverent looks dream virgil had given him, the gentle, protective touches to his belly—was married to him and expecting twins with him? _that’s_ more his kind of luck than anything.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! my tumblr is [lovelylogans!](https://lovelylogans.tumblr.com/)


End file.
